


Ever Made by Destiny

by clavicular



Category: Demon's Lexicon - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: Angst, M/M, UST, enemyslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan thought maybe Gerald was trying to learn him, the only way he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever Made by Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you goes out to all of my betas: vociferocity for her encouraging words, ineptshieldmaid for the invaluable technical advice, r_hayburn for catching a couple of gramatical errors, and lastwingedthing for all of the above and then some.

 

Alan knew what it was to be marked. He knew the feel of dreams that were not his own, knew demon’s thoughts coursing through him and pain that was sharp and real. The demon’s mark had ached under Alan’s skin in a way he couldn’t explain. 

Now it was Gerald’s mark, Gerald’s dreams, but still the same pain. Still cutting him open the same way every night.

But demon dreams were impersonal. They were desperate, filled with cold, furious bloodlust. Gerald had more patience than that. This was… quiet. The pain was teasing, testing, and there was always Gerald’s gentle, cruel smile. Alan thought maybe Gerald was trying to learn him, the only way he knew.

Alan lived with pain every day, and the bite of mark dreams wasn’t special. It was never about the pain, not really. When Alan carried the second-tier demon’s mark, it was fear that wore him down. He wasn’t ashamed of that; he’d had good reason to be afraid.

It wasn’t fear this time, though. He knew why it should have been. He knew what could happen. But this wasn’t fear.

Alan closed his eyes and thought of an awful smile, one he felt but never saw. It made him shiver. It made him want to fight back. That smile showed all the ways he’d surrendered control. He couldn’t stand it. _Surrendered._ Gerald enjoyed that, Alan thought. Perhaps as much as the power itself. Gerald liked that he’d chosen this, that it was the only choice Alan had.

Alan opened his eyes again, staring at the wall. He was seated, unmoving. Someone who knew him might think it was to regain control. Someone who knew him _well_ might think he was planning. No one knew him quite well enough.

Alan had never been good at being helpless.

He‘d never had much practice.

*

Gerald was staying with the rest of Celeste’s Circle. Getting the address had been the hard part. After that, getting _in_ was nothing. Most of the magicians had jobs, lives outside the Circle. Alan waited until midday to break in and was met with minimal resistance.

It didn’t take long to find Gerald’s room. It was sparsely furnished, only a bed and a built in wardrobe, and Alan knew it instantly. He had no idea how. He’d never been there before, it just seemed… familiar. He was halfway across the room when the realisation hit him. It reminded him of the dreams.

Alan felt ill. He’d _recognised_ it.

He fought the urge to turn back. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, concentrating on the solid weight of a knife against his hip. He stayed until the ground felt steady beneath his feet again.

Then he sat down on the bed to wait. He leaned back against the headboard, let himself become languid and relaxed. Alan lied with his body, too.

When the door swung open several hours later, it was worth it. Alan said nothing as he watched Gerald’s face change.

To his credit, Gerald hid his surprise well. Alan expected nothing less. The confusion disappeared almost immediately, replaced with a slow, curved smile.

It was different, seeing it. This time, Alan wasn’t surrendering anything.

“Any particular reason you’re in my bed, Alan?”

There was something in his voice Alan hadn’t expected. Only what Gerald was letting him see, of course. Still. He could use it, he thought.

Alan straightened up, meeting Gerald’s gaze.

“I was waiting for you,” he said.

Gerald ignored Alan’s deliberately businesslike tone.  “Why were you waiting for me?” he asked, stepping closer.

Alan stood up, hand straying to the knife at his hip. He wasn’t trying to seem harmless.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“That’s surprising,” Gerald said. He looked unsurprised. “After the last deal we made...”

“This isn’t that kind of deal.”

Alan drew out the knife and turned it over in his hands. Gerald stood transfixed, watching him. He wasn’t afraid, that was clear. Fascinated, perhaps. Alan took a step towards him – not threatening, exactly, but pointed.

“Oh?” said Gerald. “And what do you propose?”

Then pain seared through Alan’s arm, and for a moment it was his whole world. The knife fell to the ground with a clatter. Alan clutched at his hand. Gerald’s mark was blistered red on his palm.

“Information,” Alan said, trying not to gasp. “Tell me what you want. I’ll tell you…”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you want,” Alan said.

The pain receded. Alan left the knife where it was lying. He’d never wanted it so badly.

“Whatever I want,” Gerald echoed. “The truth?”

Alan smiled sweetly. “Of course.”

Gerald nodded, looking amused. Alan knew he didn’t believe a word of it. That wasn’t important - Alan had caught his interest. He’d play.

“All right,” Gerald said.

He paused, studying Alan’s features, and dragged a thumb across his own lower lip. He might really be considering what to say, Alan thought. It might just have been for show.

“I want to make a place for myself in this Circle,” Gerald said at last. “Celeste should know she has my full support.”

He smiled, showing his teeth, and Alan heard everything he wasn’t saying: _I’m taking it back, it’s mine and I’m taking it back._

Gerald tilted his head. “But you already knew that.”

“I _was_ hoping for something a little more specific.”

“Consider it an offer,” Gerald said.

“An… offer?” Alan didn’t blink. It was a near thing.

“Ensuring Celeste’s leadership. I think we both agree she’s the best person for the job.”

Alan fixed his eyes on Gerald. “I can think of worse possibilities.” For once, it was the truth.

Gerald smirked.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He shrugged. “Think it over.”

“We could be so good together,” Alan said dryly.

“We could, though.”

 Alan gave him a look of utter disdain. Perhaps Gerald saw something underneath it; his smirk widened. Alan should find it ugly. He couldn’t look away.

 “Now you owe me an answer,” Gerald said. He took another step closer.  

“What do _you_ want?”

And Alan felt suddenly trapped.

He thought about Nick, about keeping Nick safe. He thought about all the people he could kill, _would_ kill, because that would always come first. He thought about Mae and her beautiful, bright hair, and wondered what it would be like to live a normal life.

Then Alan thought about Gerald. He thought about the pain that flared through him every night, and the knife lying at his feet. He thought about the way Gerald had dragged a thumb over his lip while pretending to think.

Gerald moved closer.

“Ask me something you actually care about,” Alan said.

They were only inches apart. Gerald was smiling.

“Then it would matter what you said.”

He leant forward, lips hovering beside Alan’s ear.

“Lie to me, Alan.”

And Alan _could_. He could let his eyelids flutter closed, let his breathing hitch. He could drop his voice an octave and say, “ _You. I want you,”_ and kiss him. Alan could pull Gerald back over to the bed, make him like it, make him _need_ it…

Alan stepped backwards, hardly staggering at all.

“I want you to stay out of my head.”

He pushed past Gerald as he headed for the door. He didn’t look back, but he could feel Gerald’s eyes on him as he left.

*

That night, when Alan dreamt, he felt Gerald everywhere. Gerald’s smile. Gerald’s voice. He said nothing important, nothing Alan would remember later, but he was speaking, and Alan remembered his voice.

There was no pain, this time.

Alan still woke choking back a sob.

He blinked into the darkness, coming back to himself. Almost unconsciously, his hand clenched into a fist, fingernails digging into the mark on his palm. Alan glanced over at the clock. It was barely past one, but he had no desire to go back to sleep. He would have to, eventually. It was unavoidable. But not tonight.

Quietly, he went down to the kitchen and turned on a light. He stood with his back to the bench, leaning against it. He stared at the fridge.

Gerald was going take down Celeste. Alan didn’t bother with the word “try”. Gerald could do it, there was no doubting it. The question was this, then: why did he want Alan’s help? He wanted… he wanted _Alan_. Beyond that, Alan had no idea. It was clear there _was_ something beyond that. There always would be, with Gerald. Alan allowed himself a small smile. He didn’t like Gerald, didn’t even respect him. But some things Alan understood.

And Alan wanted… he didn’t know. He couldn’t tell, not without knowing what Gerald wanted. He thought about the way Gerald’s lips curved when he smiled. Gerald could be making him feel this. Gerald could make Alan burn however he wanted. But that didn’t scare him. No one ever scared Alan more than himself. He curled his fingers around the mark on his palm.

Gerald could be making him feel this. But Gerald might _not_ be.

Alan was still staring at the fridge. His leg ached, the way it always did when he tensed it. He tried to relax, tried to think things through clearly. What Alan _wanted,_ he decided, was pancakes.

While he mixed the batter, he made a mental list of the things he was sure of. In the end it was quite long. Nick made at least a dozen appearances on it. The first time was “ _keep him safe”._ After that it was mostly things he wished Nick would stop doing.

Gerald appeared once.

Alan knew without a doubt that he wanted this mark _gone._

 He pondered this as he greased the frying pan. To do it, he’d need to get close to Gerald. That was deceptively easy. Gerald wanted his help. But Gerald would expect his betrayal. That gave him an advantage, because Alan didn’t know what to expect. He had choices again, though. He had options.

Alan watched his pancakes cook, and began to plan.

 

 


End file.
